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The men-at-arms parted to make way for her and formed again behind her when she had turned her horse. All whipped their mounts into a gallop. If they could reach the village, it might be possible to hold off their attackers until help could be summoned. That hope lived for only a very few minutes. Voices cried out for them to halt, promising no harm would come to them, but little time was wasted waiting for a response. Hardly had the sound of the order died than one of Alinor's men cried out in pain. He clung to his saddle for a few moments, then fell. |
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Too far. The village was much too far. Even though her horses were far better than those of the men who followed, they could never outstrip the arrows. The shot that hit her man might have been an accidental accuracy, but a similar accident might strike her. There were too many in the group that followed them to chance it. Of 12 to 14 quarrels, at least one or two were bound to hit something in so compact a fleeing group. It was also useless for Alinor to tell her men to spread out in different directions. That might save the men from injury, but it would mean certain capture for her. There was no hope that the pursuers might follow a wrong lead. The light was more than strong enough for them to make out the difference between her dress and the clothing of the men-at-arms. |
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Alinor was not afraid of being harmed deliberately, but she cursed herself bitterly for having forgotten that Simon's death again made her a marriage prize. Ian might cry out with perfect truth that he did not desire her lands, but Ians were few and far between in this land at this time. Many men would cheerfully dishonor themselves and her to gain control of her propertyand Simon's, too, because Adam was a child. An arrow passed between two of her men and missed her horse very nearly before it flew ahead of her onto the road. |
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